Brain Fog
by Siren Duveil
Summary: Something has happened, and whenever Draco tries to think on it, he experiences BRAIN FOG. So...what happened? Wasn't that such a specific summary? Read it! Yeah! Reviews, as always, are welcome!Um, sorta complete but HBP left me empty.
1. Bound

**DISCLAIMER: **I...do not claim any of this as my own. Except for the words. I typed those. You might even say I DISclaim it all. oooh...

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**Chapter One: Bound to la terra forte**

Screams have never sounded as loud as they did that moment. A woman was crying, another wail was heard, and then a paper bag was witnessed floating in the wind with an unknown muggle's face on it.

Draco Malfoy sat atop something, looking down at all the people passing by. How is it that the muggles have never noticed all these children disappearing into a wall, Draco thought. He'd been watching as a child would every now and then push into the wall and disappear. Another pang shook his heart, leaving Draco confused. How did he get there? The thoughts left him so shaken, though, that he went back to watching kids pass through to the Hogwarts Express.

Shouldn't he be joining them as they boarded the train for school? Draco had no sooner thought this than he was behind a slightly skinny, raven-haired boy. He followed the boy on to the bus, indifferently glancing at the children surrounding him. Here was a girl with brown hair, and a boy next to her with red hair. But shouldn't he know these people? He looked once again at the boy in front of him, who was now at his side. "Potter," Draco whispered, the words feeling like a slight breeze against his lips.

He watched as Harry froze, eyes open in slight surprise. "Everything alright, Harry? You look like you've seen a ghost," Ron called to his friend.

Harry looked around, his eyebrows furrowed, and then turned to Ron. "I thought I heard… No, everything's alright." He smiled at his friend, and started walking.

Again, Draco felt a pang in his being. Something wasn't right. He heard the crying and wailing again, and was only left even more shaken than before. He tried to remember how he'd come to get here, and why he was standing next to the boy he was supposed to detest. All he could see, though, was a warm flushed being, full of…something. "What's going on," he wanted to cry out; but it was like a nightmare, where your mouth is open in a scream but no sound comes out- only air.

"Okay, what is that?" Harry was once again looking about, an alert look in his eyes. This left Draco feeling scared- why is it that he couldn't be seen, or really even heard. He turned around, trying to think of a solution to this puzzle.

"Harry, maybe you should sit down. Do you…do you feel alright?" Draco turned to look at Hermione, her face full of concern. She, too, seemed filled with something, but Draco couldn't quite place what. However, he could tell that she'd placed more meaning on this question than just Harry's physical well being.

"I'm fine, Hermione," Harry answered back, reassuring her with a smile. "I just… It's nothing. Come on, let's go find seats." Draco really had no choice but to follow them, thinking grimly that they wouldn't mind his unnoticed company. Where else could he go?

The Golden Trio sat down in their own compartment, as was usual, and set about to talking; rather Hermione and Ron conversed as Harry stared out the window. Draco stood in front of Ron, waving his hand in front of the red-haired boy. Ron seemed to not notice, though, which left Draco a little colder with fear. Actually he wasn't any colder. He wasn't really… Another pang left Draco feeling shaken, and with the feeling that he needed to uncover something here.

He performed the same trick with Hermione, but to no avail. She had at one point scrunched up her nose and furrowed her eyebrows, as if she were trying to concentrate, but Draco wasn't sure if that was because of him.

The blonde took to staring out the same window as Harry, watching the passing scenery. It was no longer windy out in this area of the country, but quite foggy. Draco was pretty sure the train was cutting through the fog, and had no sooner thought this than he was actually seeing it happen. Draco was paralyzed, his body right next to the train, watching as the fog separated for the scarlet steamer. His mouth opened in a perfect O as he looked around, seeing very clearly that he was outside of the train, suspended a metre above the ground.

"Back in the train, back in the train…" Draco was whispering to himself, his eyes closed as if in prayer. When he opened them, he was back in the compartment with the trio, looking upon two napping boys and a girl reading. Draco was scared and confused and he felt utterly alone. Nobody could see him, except… "Potter," Draco called, trying to shake the sleeping boy. It was as if he could never quite reach his shoulders, though, and he kept grasping air. "Harry," Draco whispered, wanting desperately for the boy to notice him once again.

"Harry," he screamed, lunging for the boy's shoulders once more. Something different happened this time, though- it was as if he were inside of Harry, in a way, while still as stuck to the floor of the train as he could be. Harry was there, too.

The boy looked around and started when he saw Draco. "What? Where- what's happening?" The dark-haired boy looked incredibly confused, and a little scared. Draco knew he should laugh at the other boy's expense. He would have if he were- ah, but there was that pang again. He knew he was beyond such belittling acts now.

"I- I don't know," Draco said quietly, shrugging.

Harry looked Draco over, still puzzled. "I'm dreaming, right? But weren't you calling- No, you couldn't have been, could you?" Harry wasn't helping Draco solve this puzzle, and that caused Draco to become agitated. He was about to open his mouth to say something when somebody else's voice intruded on this conversation.

"Harry, wake up; we need to get dressed in our uniforms."

Draco wanted to cry out in despair. He really needed help, because he was so lost—He opened his mouth again, but Harry had woken up. For a few moments the dark-haired boy looked around in an almost panicked fashion, causing his friends to feel more concern for him. Draco was back outside of Harry, and fuller of despair than when he'd gone in.

"Harry, are you sure you're alright?" Ron looked a little fearful for his friend- he knew his friend had gone through a lot in a few short years.

Harry could see the concern in his friend's face as easily as Draco could. "I promise I'm alright, Ron. I just had a- a weird dream. I think Draco needed my help with something…or something." He shook his head and let his dark bangs brush against his face before standing up and getting dressed.

Ron scoffed; "Sure, as if Malfoy would try coming to you for help." Draco almost felt indignant when he heard this comment, but he knew it was true. He hadn't really been too nice to the Golden Trio. If only—but again Draco's mind grew foggy as he thought he'd thought of something.

"Speaking of Malfoy," Hermione stated, coming back in to the compartment after having gotten dressed with Ginny, "I'm surprised he hasn't come in here to annoy us like usual."

Harry gave a small laugh as he adjusted his robes and followed Ron and Hermione out of the train. Draco followed the trio, thinking over this experience. Well, I'm not in a regular body, Draco thought, remembering very clearly his experience outside the train. So, where is my body? This left Draco feeling utterly shaken and lost, and it took his entire will to follow Harry out of the train. He'd have to stick with this boy, for it seemed he was the only one that could help him, if even he could.

When Draco was out of the train, he had to pause to look around in awe. Never had the outer grounds of Hogwarts looked like this; something was different, just as it'd been with all the people. He was even further startled when he realized he could finally see what it was that pulled the carriages around. Draco's face was scrunched in concentration, for he knew this meant something. What was it that viewing the horse-like creatures signified? No matter how frustrating, Draco just couldn't think of what it meant.

The blonde realized he'd lost Harry, but he didn't really panic. They were at school now, so he was pretty sure he'd find him eventually. Draco started making his way up to the doors, figuring he wasn't going to be expected anytime soon. The thought made Draco feel despair again, but he waved it away as he walked.

But he was already through the entrance of the school.

Draco looked back, and knew that he couldn't have walked that distance in only a few seconds. The carriages weren't even there yet. This left Draco slightly shaken, but with a sense of curiosity. What could he do now that he was- whatever he was? He thought back to his experience outside the train, and realized it was quite similar. He'd been thinking about what it was like outside, and found himself outside in an instant.

Maybe he could… Draco closed his eyes tightly and thought of the next floor up. There was no popping sound, nor was there a feeling of wind whipping against him, but when Draco opened his eyes he was no longer in the entrance of Hogwarts. He was on the second floor. "What is- going on," Draco whispered, panting, or doing something like it.

He looked around the deserted hallway before closing his eyes once again. He thought of the Slytherin common room now, and opened his eyes to find his surroundings had changed again. There was the hearth, and the furniture that reminded him so much of home—

Draco felt his whole being shake once again, and it left him feeling incredibly disoriented. He thought he heard something- either laughing or crying or bells ringing - and he knew he was closer to figuring something out. "Mother," he called out softly, as if she were sitting in one of the squishy armchairs with its back to him. If he somehow changed his vision, Draco swore he could almost see his mother's arm resting on the armrest. The jangling of whatever the noise was kept growing louder, and Draco was growing more disoriented as the moments passed by.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, but Draco couldn't move. He could just keep staring at the arm on the armrest, listening, as the sound grew louder. The boy felt like he was about to fall, but up, when the arm moved out of his line of vision. "Not yet, dear," a voice said tearfully. Draco looked away from the chair, and then turned his back completely on it. He made his way to the great hall, wanting to find Harry again.

"Harry," he muttered under his breath, seeing if he could summon himself to the dark-haired boy. Yes, there he was. Draco stood behind the boy, watching as Albus Dumbledore spoke to the student body.

"…And last, I feel it my duty to address the darker news that will most likely affect you all. Some of you might already know, but there were a small chain of deaths only days ago. Investigations are still being undergone, but as of now we know that six students have disappeared, if they…if they are still alive: Lisa Turpin, Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bulstrode, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Draco Malfoy. Please allow a moment of silence out of respect for those named and those close to them."

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**A/N:** So...did you enjoy it? Should I write more? Was it understandable? Reviews feed something- I'll tell ya that much. 


	2. I'm just following you

**A/N: **Yaay, next chapter! Thanks much for the reviews, to those who did; I evengave a few respuestos at the end of the story.

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**Chapter Two: It doesn't have to be called haunting...**

What? What? Draco was staring as the old man slowly descended back into his seat. Professor Snape whispered something in the headmaster's ear, which he received with a grave nod. Draco could see the man's shoulders heave and sag as he gave a deep sigh, and then his bright blue eyes focused on the plate in front of him.

Draco turned to look at his house's table- or should he say his former house's table- watching as Pansy Parkinson buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. Two fellow Slytherin girls were rubbing her back sympathetically, but Draco could feel no sympathy for the girl. He seemed to be the only one that noted how fake the sobs were. The girl was in fact filled with agitation of a different sort.

"So…Malfoy- Malfoy's dead?" Draco turned back to look at the red-haired boy who'd spoken. "He's really dead? How"-

"No. He- they said he'd just disappeared." Hermione's eyebrows were scrunched in an agitated fashion. Draco was slightly surprised at how seemingly distraught the Golden Trio was. Harry was just staring at the spot where Dumbledore had been standing, his mind racing.

"He came to me in a dream," Harry muttered under his breath, so low that Draco was rather sure he was the only one to hear it.

"What'd you say, Harry?"

Harry finally moved his eyes away from the spot they'd been fixated on, to have them rest on Ron. "Nothing, Ron. I'm…I'm not particularly hungry right now. I think I'm going to go- out for a moment." Harry stood up and walked out of the great hall before his friends could stop him, Draco following in his shadow. The blonde turned back once more before exiting, noticing Professor Trelawney's eyes fixed on- it couldn't be him, could it? It must have been Harry.

Harry stopped outside at the foot of the stairs, knowing he couldn't really go anywhere before finding the password for the common room. He turned back, facing the direction from which he'd come, and squared his shoulders. "Malfoy," he called, as if he were speaking with somebody an arm-length's away. "Malfoy," he called louder. "Was it you?"

Draco stood in front of Harry, close enough to touch him. "It was me," he replied, nodding enthusiastically. "It was me," he called out again. Harry's eyes were moving around the room, as if he were trying to peer through darkness for the lost boy. "Harry, it was me," Draco screamed, and Harry's eyes stopped moving.

"Draco," he whispered, shivering slightly. The last time he'd spoken with a dead person, Harry'd been in the company of the Dark Lord, and even then they'd been merely shadows of the people Voldemort had killed. This was an actual spirit. "I can't tell what you're saying." Whether or not Harry was ready for this, the Gryffindor in him was telling him to push on with it.

Draco opened his mouth to speak again, and realized this really was a predicament. How was Harry supposed to hear him? He thought back to his time on the train, and realized the only time the boy had really heard him was when he was asleep. "Harry, you have to go to sleep," Draco called out in a voice he thought was loud. However, Harry just started and looked around again.

"Malfoy, I can't hear you," he said, frustrated. "What are you"- Harry was interrupted by a stampede of well-fed students exiting the great hall and coming his way. He was deeply disappointed, and didn't understand how he was supposed to communicate with Draco.

"Harry, come on," Hermione called out from her spot on the steps. Harry looked around once more, as if he'd catch a glimpse of a transparent boy in the crowd, before joining Ron and Hermione. "What were you doing?"

Harry shook his head, not wanting to tell his friends about this situation quite yet; he didn't know how they'd take it. "Just thinking," Harry replied, shrugging his shoulders. They walked away, but Draco stayed where he was, looking for his fellow Slytherins out of habit. He followed the group down to the dungeons, wanting to have a sense of normalcy, no matter how unrealistic.

Once they were at the entrance, Draco paused to watch them all enter the room. He suddenly remembered the armchair, and the horrible yet incredibly joyful noise- Something was coming his way. Draco looked back and saw the Gryffindor ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, and was startled at how different he looked. The same way that Harry and the others had seemed full of something incomprehensible, Nearly Headless Nick seemed… exactly the opposite?

Draco started walking, wanting to enter the common room. He heard a startled and slightly confused "Oh!" and knew Nick had seen him. "Who are"- Draco, however, had panicked, and risen up to find himself in the Gryffindor common room, right next to Harry. Harry was staring in to the crackling fire, and Draco was filled with exasperation. Harry was never going to fall asleep if he kept mulling over his encounter with Draco.

Draco took the time to look around this common room, noting that it was pretty similar to the Slytherin one, except it seemed warmer with all shades of red in the furniture. He walked closer to the fire, slightly shaken by the fact that the heat felt entirely different from how it did before- he still felt a pang in his being, but now it left an empty feeling in his gut. Did he still have a gut?

Harry was finally standing, and Draco followed him into his dormitory. He looked upon the other sleeping Gryffindor boys as Harry changed for bed, and felt a fleeting sense of amusement when he realized that he could easily go into the girl's dormitory if he so pleased. But Draco had never really been one for that sort of thing.

He turned back to Harry and watched as the dark-haired boy pulled back the covers before settling into the mattress, his head resting on his hand as he stared at the top of his four-poster bed. He slowly and methodically took of his glasses, set them down, blinked twice, and rubbed his eyes wearily with his right hand.

Harry was growing tired, and sleep was slowly descending upon him, but Draco was losing patience. When Harry was in a state of half-sleep, Draco decided he was unconscious enough and stood over the boy, preparing to try entering his dreams again. He stared into the green eyes, now unshielded by glasses, and thought of how he'd gone into him before. He bent down over the half-asleep boy, who's eyes were still half-open, and was startled when he thought he heard a voice.

"Malfoy?" Draco looked down at the boy below him, surprised. He hadn't spoken, but Draco was sure he'd heard Harry. He then realized that it was Harry's thoughts that he'd heard.

"Harry," Draco whispered, praying the boy wouldn't wake up. "Harry, it was really me in your dream."

"So you really are dead then?"

Draco paused before replying. "I don't know. I- I can't remember; when I try it's like my brain fogs up."

"Why are you haunting me?"

Draco stared at the boy indignantly for a moment. "I'm not haunting you, Potter. I'm just following you."

"Well, why?"

"Because you're the only one that can hear me, and therefore the only one that can help me figure this out."

"You mean help you, like, move on or something? I don't know anything about"-

"I don't know if I'm supposed to move on, Potter. I think I might have almost"- The jangling seemed to crash in upon Draco's thoughts again, and he almost lost it. "I'm scared, Harry. I'm lost, and I don't know what's going on." He could feel Harry's sympathy for him.

"I- I'll try to help you, Malfoy, but… I'll try to help you."

Draco looked down at the boy once more, seeing that his eyes were fully closed. "Thanks, Potter," Draco replied, pulling away from the sleeping boy. Harry gasped and his eyes fluttered open, but Draco mentally smothered him with all of his power, willing him to fall asleep again. Draco knew that if he woke up, he would fall asleep again. He was pleasantly surprised when he found that it worked, and that Harry was fully asleep.

Draco walked away from the bed, thankful that Harry was going to go along with all this when he could have refused. He walked out of the boys' dormitory and into the common room. He stopped when he realized that, as a shadow of the boy he once was, he could go anywhere, for surely spirits didn't sleep. He felt a moment of excitement, knowing that Hogwarts was unfolded for him, and then gave a sigh, or as close to one as he could get.

He turned and walked towards the fireplace, taking a seat in front of the hearth. He sat and stared at the dying fire as the sun slowly came alive again on their side of the world.

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Oh my goodness I have reviews!

**KrystaGurl04046**-Thank you! I should hope it reminds you of a ghost story, because..well..he's sort of a ghost. :D

**Artemis**- The only reply I could think of to give this would give the whole story away, and I hope I didn't give it all away with that remark, anyway. Oh no! Ah, well, we'll see. Maybe I'm overplaying it to throw you for a loop... hmm..

**jasper-the-talking-cow**- I love cows! And I love that you find my story interesting! Thank you thank you thank you!

**Slayergirl1362**- I wrote more! Yesss!

**HandsOff**- Ooh, he is sexy, and for that reason he wasn't killed OFF.

Again, thanks for the reviews! They gave me a warm and fuzzy feeling, and filled me with all sorts of delight! I love you!


	3. Pardon my lack of indifference

**Chapter 3: Si supieras...**

"Harry," a voice called from somewhere. Was it Malfoy again? "Harry, wake up or you won't have time to eat." Ah, no, only Ron. Harry opened one eye, not welcoming the morning light.

"How much time do I have?"

"About twenty minutes, if you want time to eat and get your schedule. So"-

"Wake me up in fifteen." Harry closed his eyes again, and felt as if he hadn't even fallen asleep last night. He groggily thought back to his dreams, thinking they had something to do with Malfoy-

Harry's eyes opened wide and he propped himself up on one arm. Malfoy spoke with Harry while Harry was sleeping. Malfoy was missing and maybe dead, most likely dead, and needed Harry to help him figuring out what was happening. "Ron?"

Ron looked over his shoulder to his friend while putting on his robe. "Yeah, mate?"

"Are you supposed to see all spirits? Or do some stay invisible?"

Ron looked slightly uncomfortable. "I dunno…I suppose…you'd see all of them, wouldn't you? But then…aren't there supposed to be lots of different kinds of ghosts? I… I don't know. Why?"

Harry shrugged while looking away, and, unbeknownst to him, straight at Draco. "Just wondering." Ron shrugged as well and walked out of the room, warning his friend once more of the time.

Harry sighed deeply before getting out of bed. He still felt incredibly tired. He looked around the room, as if he might spot Draco lurking in the shadows. "Are you here now, Malfoy?" Draco didn't see any need to try responding to the boy, and merely watched, as Harry got ready for his first day back at school. This preparation was something the blonde might never do again- Draco felt incredibly angry all of a sudden, and more grounded than he'd felt in the early- or late, depending on how one saw it- hours before anybody started waking up.

It was during these hours that Draco feared he might just float off, which seemed very possible now. However, he soon got hold of himself, grabbing on to the carpet as a quite literal anchor. Those hours were the strangest he'd experienced, including witnessing, for the first time, as a small group of house elves scurried around the room, cleaning up after the Gryffindor students. This had deeply startled Draco; for never had he seen house elves do this. In fact, he was quite sure that not many living humans had.

Harry was walking out of the dormitory and into the common room, and soon made his way out into the corridor that would take him to the Great Hall. Draco followed in Harry's footsteps, not quite sure why it amused him so to walk soundlessly, less than an arm-length away from the dark-haired boy.

At the Gryffindor table, Harry took a seat next to Hermione. "Good morning Harry," she said jovially. Everybody could see that she was bubbling with excitement. "We're about to get our schedules. Here, have some toast." Hermione paused. "Do you feel alright, Harry? You look kind of pale."

Harry shrugged. "I didn't get much sleep last night, I guess."

Hermione nodded with understanding. "It took the longest time for me to fall asleep, too. I kept thinking about those students they've said are missing. I never really thought that soon enough…" Hermione lowered her voice, as if afraid somebody would overhear her. "I suppose Voldemort's really making himself known, now."

Harry looked off, and Draco could see the pained look on his face. The dark-haired boy unnoticeably shook his head and turned back to Hermione and Ron. "Ron, did anything happen over the summer? Anything small that wouldn't have made it to the papers?"

Ron shook his head. "Since the ministry finally admitted to V-Voldemort having risen, they've mentioned even the smallest thing." Harry nodded, looking off. "Have you stopped having your dreams?" Ron asked in a shushed voice.

"Yes, actually. Every once in a while, I still have dreams about the…the veil…" Draco looked at Harry as he spoke, and saw his green eyes close. What veil was Harry speaking of? "And…and Sirius…" Harry still had his eyes closed.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said sympathetically. She placed a hand on his shoulder, wanting to show that she'd be there for him. Draco did know about Sirius, though; it was with this that a scene flashed back into Draco's mind.

It'd been a few weeks into the summer, and Draco's house was quiet. He'd been walking around, trying to think of something other than his father stuck in Azkaban, when he heard whispering in one of the many rooms. That's it, he'd thought, mother's finally gone nutters. He hesitantly opened the door a crack, and was startled to see a dark-haired woman standing over his mother.

At first he wasn't sure if he should make a move to defend his mother, but he then realized that it was indeed his aunt Bellatrix. He wasn't really sure if Bellatrix was his aunt, but he'd always been told to call her that. His mother was sitting regally in an armchair, acting for her sake as if her world weren't slowly crumbling, her head tilted up as she listened thoughtfully to what Bellatrix was telling her. She nodded every now and then, and sometimes Malfoy could here what the woman was saying.

"But do not worry, Narcissa, for you must trust in the Dark Lord's plans."

"What happened in the Ministry, Bellatrix. Do not deny me this information."

Bellatrix paused before responding. "Let it suffice to say that our dear relative Sirius has been disposed of, and now the Black name can become the pure, unsullied thing it once was. However, the Dark Lord was…not satisfied with the outcome, for the Potter boy broke the prophecy before any of us could here it. Now do not ask anymore, my dear Narcissa. The less you know, the less trouble you pose for the Dark Lord."

Narcissa's face went blank, and she nodded. "Goodbye then, Bellatrix." Bellatrix nodded her head as she straightened her back. She then Disapparated, leaving Narcissa to crumple ever so slightly in her chair. Draco could here a sigh escape her lips, and he knew how hard this all was for her. "You can come in, Draco dear," she said quietly, looking through the crack of the door.

Draco started a bit, then straightened his back and entered the room. "So they don't know yet," he asked his mother.

"No, my darling, not yet."

"And father"-

"It would be best if you kept your mind clear of such things. You never know who might be listening in." Draco nodded, placing a hand on his mother's shoulder for a moment.

The blonde now looked down at Harry noting his eyes were now open, but it seemed he was trying to hide behind his fringe.

"Harry?" Hermione was looking at her friend questioningly. "Here's your schedule."

"Oh, thanks," he said, still not meeting his friends' eyes. "I'm not very hungry. I think I'm…going to get to class before everybody starts leaving."

Ron and Hermione looked concerned for their friend. They knew he had a tendency to keep things inside, but it couldn't be good for him. Outside of the hall, Harry leaned against a wall, relieved to be alone. Well, maybe not so alone. "Draco?" Still Draco didn't answer, and Harry felt a bit of doubt- Maybe Draco was just part of his dreams, like Sirius and Cedric. Harry let out a long sigh and looked at his schedule for the first time.

The first class he had was Defense Against the Dark Arts, so he started slowly making his way to the room. He knew that Tonks was supposed to eventually become one of the many teachers lined up for this year's Defense teacher, but for now she was off on some mission, so there'd be a surrogate for the surrogate professor. He remembered the last time he'd seen her, Tonks had been prepared to 'have some questions answered', going incognito with dark red hair and sunglasses. Her "beaux's" arm was linked with her own, and he'd looked dotingly at her as she detached herself to walk closer to Harry.

"Be good for me, Harry," she'd said playfully, giving him a small peck on the cheek. "I'll be seeing you at school in a few months." She'd winked and then Disapparated, leaving a blushing Harry to go back to the Dursleys halfway through the summer.

In the entrance to the classroom, Harry paused. He heard somebody humming. The door suddenly flew open, and Harry jumped back. "Oh, I'm sorry, dear! Are you here for the class? I'm terribly excited, aren't you? I do hope I perform well as a teacher."

"Er, hello," Harry replied slowly, not sure what else he could say. Before him stood a slightly plump looking woman, with completely round cheeks due to the widest smile Harry had ever seen. She had somewhat graying hair, and shining eyes. Draco thought he'd seen her before…maybe in the Ministry.

"Come in, dear, take a seat." She ushered Harry into the room, beaming as he took a seat in the middle of the class. "Don't like to be in the front, do we," she said jokingly. Harry shrugged, still unsure of how to take this woman. "What's your name, dear," she asked Harry, taking a seat next to him as if she had nowhere she'd rather be at the moment.

"Harry Potter," he replied, giving her a small smile. Her eyes glanced at and acknowledged the scar on his forehead, partly hidden behind his bangs, and a line of worry appeared on her own forehead.

"My, how did I not notice? Oh dear, you are such a trooper," she said shakily, her eyes brimming with tears. Harry had the notion he should feel slightly alarmed, and knew to be alarmed when he found his head dramatically pulled to rest on his new professor's shoulder. "It's alright, Harry dear, no need to hold in those horrible feelings that must be building up inside of you. Just let them out for Aunt Prunella."

Now Draco knew where he'd seen this woman before. She did work in the ministry- in the Department of International Magical Cooperation…she was the one they'd call on to settle conflicts. Draco could see it now: two old men crying on "Aunt Prunella's" shoulders as they spoke of their woes concerning the other.

By now more students had started walking down the corridors, so it was with an encouraging smile that Aunt Prunella left Harry. While she was off greeting other students that entered, Harry shook his head and reminded himself to tell Ron this story when they had a class together. Draco was amused by this whole act to say the least, and knew that had he been in a real body… Draco was left with a grounding jolt, and rather than try to continue these thoughts he looked around the room that was slowly being filled with students.

Eventually Aunt Prunella stood before the students, beaming at each one before speaking. "Hello, children, my name is Prunella Smith, but please do call me Prunella. It makes everything so much more personal, and I don't want to be just another professor. I want to be your friend." She finished this small speech with an enthusiastic nod and smile, and handed out a piece of parchment to the students with questions written on it.

"Seeing as this is an advanced defense class against the Dark Arts," she continued, "I should hope all of you are in here because you want to be. I will only be your teacher for a month or so, until another can take my place. So that I can get to know you better in this small amount of time, please answer the following questions."

Harry looked down at the parchment in front of him, with Draco looking over his shoulder. "What are your aspirations in life? How does this class fit into it?" Harry and Draco thought these questions were rather fitting. Both pairs of eyes continued to scan down the page. "How can I better support you? Do you sometimes feel the need for someone to help you tend to your emotions?" Harry gave a sigh, shaking his head, unaware that Draco was doing the same behind him.

"Oh goodness," Harry whispered under his breath, and Draco did the same. For the rest of the period, Harry answered the somewhat personal questions, trying to be as vague as he could, feeling strangely as if somebody were watching him.

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**A/N**: Woo..this chapter was longer than the others. But...did anything really get accomplished? Reviews egg along all my wonderful muses, so go ahead and drop one! Criticisms (is that how you spell it? o...o;;), excessive amounts of doting...it's all welcome! 


	4. I'm no meteorologist, but

**Chapter Four: The fog might be lifting**

"…But then right as I was about to get to the punch line- Harry, you know, the 'that's not the potion!' one- Snape walks in like he's on some important mission and cuts me off." Ron took a small pause to breathe, letting the past few minutes' worth of information sink in. Ron and Harry had different class schedules now, and the only classes they would have together were Divination and Care of Magical Creatures. "Are you doing the color-changing potion, Harry?"

"No, we're learning the…what's it called? Oh, Draught of Death, I think. It's supposed to be a really strong sleeping potion, or something. I sort of remember him mentioning it before. Hermione said Snape had mentioned it before, in our first year."

Ron shook his head. "I bet she has his lectures memorized."

"You bet who has whose lectures memorized," Hermione asked, approaching the table.

Harry smiled. "Why, hello Hermione. We were just talking about"- Ron elbowed Harry in the ribs. "…classes."

"Oh. It's too bad we only have one class together every other day. Well, you and Ron have Divination, too, I suppose. Why do you still take that class?"

"Because there's hardly any work," Ron replied with his mouth stuffed with food.

Two classes later, Ron and Harry found themselves in the aforementioned class almost falling asleep, dizzy with incense and warm from the ever-lit fire.

"Alright, if everybody would prepare to open their inner eye, I will set out our divining tools." Harry jerked awake at the sound of Professor Trelawney's voice. Harry wasn't that sure why he was still in this class, as he wasn't particularly fond of it, but he had to admit he was glad Trelawney had her job back.

The woman paused at Harry's table, setting down a crystal ball. "Hello, Mr. Potter- I'm glad you had a good summer. You too, Mr. Weasley." She started walking to set a crystal ball down on Parvati and Lavender's table when she stopped abruptly. Draco was sure she was staring at him. "I sense a presence in this room," she said in a dramatic whisper, her eyes searching for the source of her heebie-jeebies.

Harry was also looking around, although by this time he knew it would be a fruitless search. However, if Trelawney really did sense Draco in the room, maybe it wasn't all in Harry's head. The professor's search only lasted a minute or so before she shrugged and went back to passing out crystal balls.

"Now I want you all to close your eyes and breathe deeply; do not be afraid of letting out sound as you breath. Good job, Mr. Weasley, just try to stay a little quieter," Professor Trelawney whispered. Ron was giving a drawn-out grunt with each breath, and Harry was trying desperately not to laugh. "Now, as you breathe, take turns looking into the crystal balls…"

Harry and Ron both glanced into the ball. "You see anything," Ron whispered out of his closed mouth, still earning a glare from Lavender. Harry shook his head. "I guess that means we take a nap, then." Ron gave a decisive nod and settled in to his pile of hoarded cushions with his eyes closed.

Harry gave a quiet snort, glanced at the crystal ball once more, and rested his head inconspicuously on the table, deciding a nap sounded spectacular. As he lightly dozed, Harry saw what seemed to be an elusive shape in the corner of his eye. Every time he tried to focus on it though, the shape seemed to be once again in the corner of his eye. This constant moving was annoying Draco, who had no control over it.

"Don't try, Potter."

"Malfoy," the boy exclaimed. "Why didn't you answer when I asked if you were there earlier?" Harry was relieved it hadn't all been in his head, but didn't understand why he'd been ignored in the morning.

"Well, how exactly did you expect me to speak with you when you were awake? And why would I?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe for my sake? So I would know I wasn't imagining you in my dreams?"

"And when have I ever done anything for your sake, Potter?"

Harry scowled, or thought he might have. "Hey, I'm the one in a body, trying to help you figure out what's going on."

Draco paused. "I know. I'm just twisting you arm. You should probably wake up, though- that woman is coming your way."

Harry opened his eyes in time to see Professor Trelawney walking towards him and Ron to hear what they'd Seen. Harry elbowed Ron in the ribs, maybe a little harder than he'd meant, and Ron woke up with a grunt of pain. "Teacups," the boy blurted out loud, saying the first thing that came to mind. "I saw a teacup."

Professor Trelawney looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, that must mean you should keep honing in on your Seeing ability. And you, Mr. Potter? What did you see?"

Harry pondered for a moment. "I think I saw a boy," he said.

Trelawney cocked her head to the side, her big eyes blinking twice. "Interesting," she said before moving on.

By dinner Harry felt drained. He sat listening to Hermione and Ron gently bicker, not really listening to their words as much as he was listening to the sound of their voices. Draco was feeling slightly agitated, although his brief talk with Harry had momentarily calmed his nerves.

Now Draco realized how different he was from his ex-fellow students. It was like he couldn't really touch them- any time he got close enough to one his hand just…wouldn't touch them. It was as if he were trying to completely join oil and water. And each time he saw two students touch, whether it was in a pat on the shoulder or a discreet kiss snuck in when no professor was looking, Draco felt a bit angry and scared. He couldn't remember what it felt like to touch someone.

Draco wanted to be alone, but also wanted to stay close to people. Still torn over his indecisiveness, he found himself in the Slytherin common room. The room chilled the blonde, and he looked around, his eyes staying on the armchair from yesterday. Could he go to his mother, he wondered? That is, if she was still alive- The idea of his mother dead struck Draco as impossible, but…

He started thinking of the Malfoy manor before he could let fear overtake him, and like before, when Draco opened his eyes he found himself in his own room. However, everything was strewn around, as if someone had been looking for something in a rush. Draco scowled angrily at this for a moment before he went on looking through the house, seeing if his mother was here, or maybe his body- The latter possibility left Draco filled with dread.

He walked through the manor cautiously, as if it were possible to hear his steps, not even sure why he felt he should be cautious. He knew it had something to do with the last few moments- those moments he couldn't remember without the brain fog descending on him. Draco thought he heard whispering coming from one of the rooms, but as he approached the door, that infernal (or maybe heavenly?) jangling started again, making Draco's head spin.

His only thought was to get away, and the next second Draco found himself in a dark room, maybe a cellar, close to a heavily breathing form. Looking closer, Draco noted the dark eyes and skin of none other than Blaise Zabini. "Zabini," he whispered, surprised he found the boy here, wherever here was. Blaise couldn't sense Draco like Harry could, and therefore didn't move. He was sitting in the corner of the cellar-like room, trying to control his breaths.

Those dark eyes kept roving around the room, and Draco noticed that they weren't alone. Standing not too far away were two hulking forms snickering, and Draco recognized them to be Crabbe and Goyle. Draco was confused; what was going on? Could the other missing students be in here? Draco looked closer, and realized Zabini was watching Crabbe and Goyle with alert, scared eyes. He was being held captive. They were the only four in the room.

If Zabini, along with these two who seemed to be his captors were alive, then…might Draco be alive somewhere? He closed his eyes, expecting to get back to Harry, and the last thing he heard from the dark room was the sound of Crabbe's deep voice muttering "Crucio," and the sharp intake of breath that comes before a scream.

When Draco opened his eyes, he felt wobbly all over, and looked for Harry. They were in the common room, and thankfully Harry was leaving for bed. Draco waited impatiently for Harry to fall asleep, angry that this was the only time he could communicate with the boy.

Finally after what seemed like hours but was most likely mere minutes, Harry was asleep. Draco caught his attention, or however their meetings commenced, and got straight to the point. "I might not be dead. Zabini and Crabbe and Goyle are alive."

"You saw them?"

"Yes, and it seems that either Crabbe and Goyle have taken after their fathers in becoming Death Eaters, or they have found sheer amusement in torturing Zabini."

"What? They were"-

"Yes, and that might be happening with the other two students, maybe three if you…include myself."

"Somebody should be told of this," Harry thought, feeling agitated but not to the point of waking.

"And how exactly do you expect to do that, Potter? Contact with disembodied spirits doesn't tend to be the norm, even in the wizarding world."

"What else am I supposed to do then, Malfoy?" Harry demanded of the boy.

Draco paused. "I don't know. I suppose…I suppose you have to tell someone."

"Did you know Zabini wasn't going to be a Death Eater? Because apparently he's not."

"No, he put on the perfect front. But then again, I guess I did, too."

"You didn't want"-

Draco kept talking, though. "But I don't understand- why did they already recruit sixth-year students? Father said they waited until your seventh year, at least."

"Malfoy, you didn't want to be a Death Eater?" Harry repeated loudly, although it wasn't really louder in volume, seeing as they weren't really talking.

"No, Potter, I didn't. I kept an appearance of following in my father's footsteps, but I've known that's the losing side since- well, since I met you, I suppose."

Harry ignored what might have been taken as a compliment, and pondered this information. "Lisa Turpin, she was the other missing one, right? And Millicent Bulstrode…Lisa's a Ravenclaw… Malfoy, I think I might have found out what's happening, but I'm not too sure. I need to speak with Hermione, and tell a professor about the missing students…and I need to sleep. Sorry."

Malfoy sighed, knowing Potter did need his rest, for while they were speaking Potter wasn't really sleeping. "Alright, Potter. I'll be there when you figure everything out, I suppose." And with that Draco left Harry to sleep.

A few steps away from the bed, Draco paused. He should see where Millicent Bulstrode and Lisa Turpin were, no matter how strong his sense of foreboding. But how? He wasn't sure if he could find them without knowing their surroundings. How'd he get to Zabini? Deciding it was worth a try, Draco thought of anything that could get him to Bulstrode and the Ravenclaw.

He was slightly more filled with dread than relief when he saw that he had indeed gotten somewhere. Why the hell was he trying to act so heroic? This was Potter's job. He was about to go back when he realized that, instead of two girls his age, a frail-looking woman was near.

He was in a small room, and the woman- wait- "Mother," he cried out, forgetting once again that not many people could here him. His mother was standing over a table, and on that table was the body of a thin, pale blonde boy. Draco stared down at the boy and had a horrible start when he realized whose body it was.

As he was looking down at himself, Draco had a disconcerting feeling, thinking he was looking into a mirror when obviously he was not. The eyes weren't completely closed, and seemed to be staring blankly at the feet. Draco took all this in numbly before realizing once again who he was looking at; that numbness gave way to utter fear, and Draco instinctively flew back to Potter, only to mentally kick himself the moment he was found himself in the Gryffindor common room.

"Stupid, Draco! You should have tried to- to get back in…" Draco's mind was reeling and he felt frantic. Luckily for him dawn was fast approaching, which left him little time to think upon his seemingly dead body lying on the table before Harry woke up.

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**A/N: **Once again, thank you for the reviews! It makes me happy to see them in my inbox...wonderful wonderful wonderful.

And, like always, reviews of all kinds are welcome, unless they're merely put out there to kill. ;D


	5. Que lejos estas de mi

**Chapter Five: Que lejos estas de mi (pardon a lack of accents...)**

"Potter, if you're not going to listen then please at least close that gaping hole of a mouth," Professor Snape said acidly, bent so his face was closer to the Boy-with-the-Wandering-Mind.

"Sorry Professor," Harry said, his face blushing. Draco hated seeing Harry blush, which was quite the opposite from their last few years together- back then he would have given anything to humiliate the Golden Boy. Now, however, it just reminded him that Harry was in a touchable body- or rather, a physical body that could be touched.

"Two points from Gryffindor for acting obstinately cheeky, Potter," Snape said coldly, and Harry sat back in his chair and acted like a sullen adolescent faced with injustice. "Now as I was saying, the Draught of Death can be very near deadly if brewed wrong, as can most potions, so I will be choosing groups for the sake of preventing catastrophes, although I'm not going to let anybody test the potion, and we will act out certain precautions to make sure that no small samples make their way out of this class room- we don't need students keeling over in the deepest sleep.

"However, I'm not sure if there exists a Potions student that can prevent a catastrophe from occurring with Longbottom…" Snape paused to let a few Slytherins titter on their side of the room, while Neville slumped in his seat and looked down, redder than Harry had been.

Draco would have laughed at that comment.

After Potions Harry walked with Hermione in the corridor, waiting for the right moment to tell her about having seen Malfoy repetitively in his dreams- but he wouldn't say it like that. That sounded a bit too… Surprisingly, it was Hermione that stopped Harry and decided to prod Harry in to telling her.

"Is something wrong, Harry? You've been acting incredibly strange lately and I know you don't like to talk about what's wrong and you bottle up your emotions but that's not good for you and I care about you and so does Ron and"-

"Hermione, don't worry. I plan on telling you…well, almost everything." Hermione still had her mouth open as if ready to keep letting the words spill forth, but Harry guided her into an empty classroom for the sake of keeping out unwelcome listeners.

"So, what's wrong, Harry?"

"Well, it has to do with Malfoy," Harry saw Hermione's eyes open and then become full of concern. "Malfoy and those other students that have gone missing. Most- well maybe all of them- are alive I think."

"But how do you"-

"I think Malfoy has been visiting me in my dreams."

This statement was met by a long silence, in which Hermione looked at Harry with raised eyebrows and Harry tried to keep eye contact with Hermione, knowing how strange that sounded. "…Oh," Hermione replied, not quite sure what else to say.

"…Yes."

"Since when?"

"Since the first day we were here; do you remember on the train, when I said I had a dream where Malfoy was asking for my help?"

Hermione looked dubious. "Harry, I've read many stories where people are plagued by guilt, which leads to them having recurring dreams…"

Harry was starting to get irritated by the fact that Hermione didn't believe him, not completely realizing that he was asking a lot of a girl highly skeptical in things otherworldly. "Hermione, I'm rather sure that this Malfoy isn't a figment of my imagination. I mean"- But Harry realized that he didn't really have any proof he could give to this girl that needed all the facts spread out on a page in front of her.

Draco was growing increasingly restless, despising his inability to add his own comments to this conversation that wasn't going at all how he needed it to go. He cursed Granger and the fact that she didn't believe Harry could see a ghost… He knew he had no right to, for he probably wouldn't believe it himself, but it felt good to get angry.

"Actually," Harry said, looking up to meet Hermione's eyes, "I didn't know about the missing people when I first dreamt of Malfoy. And before we got on the train, I remember feeling as if somebody had called my name, when it didn't really sound like somebody had called my name, and I think that was Malfoy, too."

Hermione's eyebrows were knitted together as she tried to mull over this information. After a long pause, she finally took a seat at one of the desks and looked up at Harry. "So…you think Malfoy is now some kind of…of earthbound spirit?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess so- he doesn't know if he's dead or not, and last night he told me he'd seen Crabbe and Goyle and Zabini alive."

Hermione looked off thoughtfully again before answering. "So, if- and I emphasize the _if_- Malfoy is alive and he's wandering around as a spirit and speaking with you in your dreams, what does it all mean? Why did you tell me?"

Harry smiled at Hermione. "You have a wonderfully logical way of thinking, and can reason well- I just overlooked the fact that as such you might be slightly skeptical when hearing that I'm conversing with a ghost that only I can see."

Hermione gave a small giggle as she stood up. "I thank you for the compliment, I suppose. Is this all I have to reason my way through?"

"Well, Malfoy said that it seemed Crabbe and Goyle were torturing Zabini, and Malfoy said that- that he didn't want to be a Death Eater."

Harry thought Hermione would be as surprised by the news as he was, but Hermione merely nodded. "Yes, I figured he would make that decision- after all, Slytherins tend to fight for the winning side, don't they?" Harry only shrugged. "Is that all then?"

"Er, yes, I suppose so. What do you reckon from it all?" Hermione shrugged, saying that she would think it over. "Thanks, Hermione," Harry said earnestly, "for believing what I say even if you have your doubts."

"Don't thank me Harry- what else would I do- shun you and call you a crackpot?" Harry gave a weak laugh and together they walked out of the classroom.

That night, Harry lay in bed listening to rain rap against the window as he tried to do his work. He knew it was fruitless, but he wasn't particularly rushed to do it, seeing as he was only trying to get ahead now. Hermione would be proud.

Draco stood by and waited for Harry to do something, disliking the fact that he was at this boy's mercy. He'd watched as Harry and Hermione conversed in hushed voices about the blonde-haired boy, trying to solve what they could of the puzzle. They'd made mistakes and misinterpreted some statements Draco had made, which annoyed the sort-of-there boy to no point; he hadn't been conditioned to stay quiet in a conversation.

He'd be giving Harry a list of places where they went wrong when he went to sleep. That was another thing- why in all the seven hells did he have to wait for the boy to be asleep? It just wasn't fair… Draco relaxed in these feelings of anger, loving that they made him, well, feel.

Finally Harry was falling asleep, and Draco waited semi-patiently for the boy to fully slip into some sort of unconsciousness. "Potter, you and Granger are starting to look in all the wrong places," he started, speaking in a reprimanding tone as if correcting a little boy.

"You were there, Malfoy?"

"Of course," he replied. "I'm always there."

"That…that's a little creepy. Always?"

"Well mostly. Oh, please, Potter- don't flatter yourself into thinking that I…watch you when you"-

"Right. So where did we go wrong?"

"Well, I made a list…"

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**A/N: Well, what did you think? I'm sorry if this was a long time in coming- or did it just feel like an incredibly long time to me? Annnyways, I hope it wasenjoyed, and if anybody sees anythingthat they feel should be altered or whatever...just, youknow, dropme a review. **

**They're soup for my soul. (nods)**

And thanks much for the reviews!

Jasper the talking cow: I'm glad I was funny! I liked making a mockery! hehe...

Slayergirl: I think you with SO much profusion.

And...thank you thank you thank you! New livejournal, by the way: ojurasoji


	6. We leave our heroes

**Chapter Six: A Slightly Solemn Interlude**

"Lightly do we tread…"

His head moved slightly on the pillow resting beneath him.

"_Dare not to speak his name…"_

His hand curled on the black sheets, the tendons visibly stretching across his white knuckles, his long, spidery white fingers pressing into his palm.

"But to him alone do we pledge ourselves…" 

His wand was under the pillow, ready for use, humming with the power it felt in its master.

"_To him alone do we pledge, Our King, the Dark Lord."_

**Flags were billowing in the wind, hanging from poles on wall, on windows, in the hands of men marching by. Flags with a skull, with a snake, with His Mark.**

"But to him alone do we pledge ourselves…" 

**Everywhere were his men, men in masks and black billowing robes. Wands were poised and ready, dealing out Unforgivables like candy. Everywhere the ringing of laughter mingled with the gasps of pain and death and utter despair, creating a polyphonic spree. To his ears it was the joyous pealing of Hell's Bell's, and his laughter made it complete.**

"To him alone do we pledge…" 

**Shrill, hateful, frigid, his laughter was the living end.**

"_Our King, the Dark Lord."_

"My L-Lord," came a hoarse, whispering voice. He could smell fear. He didn't open his eyes. "M-My Lord, I'm sorry, but it seems there has been a mistake…"

**He could still faintly hear the pain-filled gasps and cries of the tortured, of those that would not submit to his will, those that still looked for hope in the green eyes of a mere boy. The boy would not last long.**

"My Lord, it seems the Malfoys were not efficiently- dealt with…"

An image of a young, thin, silver-eyed adolescent flashed across his mind, with the potential to be of good use in the future shining in his smirk.

He imperceptibly opened his eyes a hair's width, gouged the man's location, and reached for his wand in a swift, liquid movement.

"_Avada kedavra_." The words left his mouth in a hiss, his hand lazily holding his wand, and he heard the satisfying thump of a lifeless body making impact with the ground.

Stupid man, he thought. He now fully opened his eyes, the slits of pupils surrounded by red irises taking in the room.

He'd ruined a perfectly good dream.


	7. Whether the weather is fine

**I toootally uploaded three new chapters, and fixed up the last one to make it a bit more..understandable. So enjoy!**

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**Chapter 7: Might the weather be clear for once?**

"Harry," Hermione whispered through the corner of her mouth. "Harry, I think I've found the solution."

The Gryffindors were sitting at their table in the great hall, enjoying their third meal of the day, when Hermione made her third plan known. Harry was, after almost four weeks, starting to doubt whether or not this problem would be solved. However, he'd pushed on with the help of Draco's angry words at night and Hermione's zealous endeavors during the day. He couldn't let them down, after all.

Harry turned to Hermione, raising his eyebrows. "I was looking through an old divinations book- be quiet- and I ran in to a chapter on earthbound spirits."

"Don't tell me we've been reduced to trying séances or anything of the sort," Harry said skeptically, and Draco was thinking the same thing. No way would he stand in front of a group of awestruck students with odd incense burning and…

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head. "Nothing of the sort. How would that solve anything? The chapter had information for a locating spell. It- It plots out the location of an earthbound thing's source, I suppose you could say."

This sounded incredibly promising.

"When can we try it," Harry asked, already becoming excited.

"This evening, I think," Hermione replied, going over a mental list. "Yes, we can do it this evening. Let's go to the room of requirement at, say, nine?"

Harry nodded his agreement.

That night, Hermione and Harry slowly made their way to the room of requirement with surprisingly few items. Hermione had a large, dusty book, a strangely colored stone tied somewhat haphazardly with a piece of what looked like tinsel, and a piece of rolled up parchment.

They followed the procedure of walking passed the door, imagine what all they required, and walked in. They were greeted by a comfortable looking room in Gryffindor colors, with a large, round table and three chairs to sit in.

"Three," Hermione asked with a puzzled expression. Then both Gryffindors looked around and remembered their invisible guest. "I don't think Malfoy can sit down, can he?" The two shrugged and entered the room.

Draco was incredibly incensed by that comment, and did indeed forcefully anchor himself to that seat for the entire event, which lasted for three hours. Thirty minutes into the procedure and almost at the end of the beginning preparations, Hermione let out a cry of dismay.

"I just realized that we need a map to locate him with," she said, frustrated.

Harry waved the rolled up piece of parchment at her. "What's this then?"

"A map of Hogwarts," she replied, using a tone of obviousness. "I really doubt that Malfoy is going to be stuck somewhere in the castle. Wouldn't that be a bit noticeable?"

"Well, there are lots of hidden rooms," Harry said, but he, too, was full of doubt. Both sat in dismal silence for a moment before Harry snapped his fingers. "Wouldn't you say, Hermione, that we _require_ a broader map at the moment?"

Hermione looked up at the boy, her eyes shining. "Harry, I would indeed say that we do." And without any sound or sight to signal its arrival, a neatly folded map appeared on the table. Hermione eagerly opened it and her face fell. "That might be a bit too broad." She lifted it for Harry to see.

It was a map of the entire northern hemisphere. "Yes, I don't think Malfoy's stuck on the North Pole."

There was another silence before Hermione looked at Harry and shrugged. "Well, it might give us some indication of where he is- at least what country he's in." Two hours later Hermione, Harry and Draco were staring down at the map, or more specifically down at one point, which the stone on tinsel seemed about ready to set on fire. It was creating the effect a magnifying glass has in the sun, where a focused point of light can burn a hole.

"So he is in Europe," Harry established.

Suddenly, Draco started feeling incredibly strange and awkward in his own- well- sort of skin. He looked down and thought he looked a little more like mist than before, and he started to panic. Was he really dying now? He felt a pain in his abdomen, which was as welcome as it was unwelcome, for he hadn't felt anything like pain in a long while. He stood up, and didn't stop going up. He was high in the air when he called out for Harry to help.

The hair on the back of Harry's neck stood on end, and he looked around the room. "Malfoy?" There was the hardly-noticeable sensation of something being sucked in the air, like a vacuum being used but infinitely bigger and quieter, and for a moment neither Hermione nor Harry could breathe.

"Harry, what was that," Hermione asked breathlessly.

Harry looked around, and called out Malfoy's name once more. "I think- I think Malfoy is gone."

One moment Draco was looking down at Harry, who was staring blindly straight at him, and the next he was looking down at his own feet.

And he was cold.

And desperately, desperately in need of some food and breath.

"I'm back," he whispered hoarsely. He tried to sit up, but was too weak. Instead he turned his head from side to side. "Mother," he whispered in the same hoarse voice. He coughed and tried to speak louder. "Mother," he called again, and he heard somebody stir from near his head.

"Draco?" Narcissa, or at least the ghost of what Draco knew to once be his mother, came in to view. "Draco, darling you're awake," she said breathlessly, not daring to believe. Countless times she'd woken up to the sound of her son calling her and every time she'd found it to be a dream. "Draco, my son." She felt his face, his chest as it rose and fell, his hands slowly warming up.

"Mother, what happened?"

But it was too late, for his skeleton of a mother had fallen to her knees, sobbing, resting her head near that of her son's. "All is ruined," she cried through shuddering breaths, trying to stifle her sobs. "I'm sorry, Draco, but they got your father. I tried to get us away, and the Draught I gave you was too strong…" Her words were becoming incoherent, but with each gasping breath her sobs slowly subsided.

Draco struggled, and made himself sit up. He brought his feet down from the table to dangle near the floor, and he rubbed his mother's thin shoulders, trying to comfort her to where she could talk.

Eventually she looked up at him and took one last breath before calming enough to speak. "Where are we, mother," Draco asked quietly. "And why are we here?"

"I can't say where we are, otherwise it will become plottable," Narcissa said. "As for why we're here, that takes much more explanation. You've known, for many years now, that we were not truly loyal to the Dark Lord. However, that was soon brought to the attention of the Dark Lord himself.

"Lucius sent us an owl, warning that the Dark Lord had found out, and it was amazing that it arrived in time. Your father, by now, must be- be dead…

"As soon as I received the owl, I started on our escape. I burned the letter and prepared two beakerfuls of the Draught of Death. It conveys all the symptoms of death while actually keeping the drinker alive. I also prepared two beakerfuls worth of poison, both of which I mostly threw in the fire but some of which I spilled. Do you remember me giving you a potion to drink?" Now Draco did remember that night, and his mother's frantic face as she gave him a potion to drink.

"This was the Draught of Death. Soon after you drank yours and fell into the deathlike sleep, I positioned you near where I'd spilled the poison. That way, the Death Eaters that I knew were on their way would think we'd poisoned ourselves. I then drank my own, and right as I swallowed it the Death Eaters started appearing, as if- as if out of the shadows, and then all went black.

"But I must have made a mistake when brewing your draught, for you were asleep for far too long. I was terrified when I woke up; I had no way of knowing whether or not you were dead or merely sleeping, so I hid us away here. For so long, now, I've waited for you to awaken, and now- now"- Narcissa broke into sobs again.

Draco looked down at his broken mother, and took her face in his pale hands. "Mother, it's been more than a month since you brought us here. We need to get out, and find the others that were caught. Yes, others were caught, including Blaise. I'll explain in a while; but first, you must tell me where we are. Is it safe to go out of this room?" Narcissa shrugged her shoulders- she didn't know, for she hadn't dared. "Are we somewhere in our home?" She shook her head, no. "Are we near?" After a pause, she nodded her head, yes.

"We're in grandfather's"-

"Please don't say it aloud," Narcissa whispered urgently.

"Mother, listen to me," Draco said firmly, still holding her face in his hands. "I'm going to go out. The Death Eaters must still think we are dead. I'm going to floo to Hogwarts, and find help." Draco pushed off of the table and stood, helping his mother to stand as well.

"But Draco, how did you come back? Where were you?"

"With Harry Potter," he replied grimly, an odd sort of smirk on his mouth. It seems he didn't need Potter's help figuring out the puzzle after all.

Draco stepped towards the door leading to his exit with resolve, and took a deep breath before opening it a crack. He peeked into the connecting room and saw it was deserted. He stepped through and quickly walked to the fireplace. He searched and found the pot with floo powder which he threw in a handful of, clearly yelled "The office of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry", and jumped in.

He failed to notice the pair of gleaming eyes peering through the slightly opened doorway of yet another connecting room.


	8. Ah, la vida

**Chapter 8: Life is Never Easy**

Albus Dumbledore has, on various occasions, had quite an interesting array of characters floo in to his fireplace. Once, a parrot that belonged to his distant cousin Eduardo del Espancha had somehow found its way into and out of his hearth. The parrot, it seems, had decided to parrot off the name Albus Dumbledore repetitively and flew through the floo the moment it was thrown in to the flames. Eduardo had followed soon after, all out of sorts and apologizing profusely.

However, never before had a ghost flooed in.

And never before had Albus Dumbledore thought a ghost could look so realistically sooty.

And colorful.

And alive.

"Professor, if you wouldn't mind, I need your help; so would you stop staring?" Draco Malfoy wasn't in any mood to pose for gawking at the moment.

"I apologize, Mr. Malfoy. It's just not everyday that a missing student, supposed dead, floos into my office."

"Yes, well, as you can see I'm not exactly dead. And neither is my mother, and I need to see Professor Snape right away."

Dumbledore was still seated at his desk, looking up at the agitated young Malfoy with raised eyebrows. "Yes, of course," Dumbledore said quickly. He called for Dobby, who appeared with a pop.

"Yes, Headmaster sir," Dobby greeted with a bow.

"I need you to find Professor Snape for me, Dobby, and bring him here as soon as possible." Dobby bowed once more and disappeared. "Take a seat, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco nodded. He took a step towards the seat and felt his whole body reel, and was left with an incredibly strong pang of hunger in his stomach. He wondered if he'd eaten anything for the weeks he was half-dead. "I think I need to eat, actually," he said, doubled over.

Dumbledore stood swiftly and acted as a support for the young man. "Of course, of course." He looked up at a clock on the wall. "Breakfast is about to start, so I would suggest you hurry. That is, of course, unless you want to announce to the school your arrival."

Draco looked up at the old man. "I know where the kitchens are," he replied.

Never had food tasted so good as when Draco took the first bite. After weeks of watching other students eat, he was able to eat as well. The fact that the elves kept pushing more food into his pockets and hands and onto trays for him to take for the trip back just added to his joy. He was alive again.

However, he also remembered hearing once that after not eating for long periods of time one's stomach shrinks. Therefore, less food can be comfortably consumed, and one can risk one's health if one eats too much. So Draco ate slowly, and savored every bite, and didn't waste one lick of jam or drop of cream.

He soon exited through the painting with the pear from which he'd entered, carrying with him more food than is consumable in three days. An image of his mother's sunken face suddenly came to mind, and he quickened his pace. Then he wondered; what if they weren't alone in the house. It was a small house, only seven rooms, and any one of the other five he hadn't been in could have contained Death Eaters, biding their time.

Why hadn't he made his mother come with him to Hogwarts? Why had he left her there alone?

He could already imagine cloaked figures binding his mother, her eyes fearful, her thin wrists tied with rope. By then Draco was jogging towards Professor Snape's office.

"Malfoy!" The call startled Draco so strongly that he almost dropped the food he was carrying.

"_What_," he snapped out of habit. The voice sounded horridly familiar. He turned around. Of course it was Potter.

"How are you- You were"-

"Yes, I certainly was, but thanks to something, I'm no longer- well, half-dead or earthbound or whatever I was. Now if you don't mind"- He turned away and started running towards Professor Snape's office. He called over his shoulder that there were pressing matters at hand, no time to lose. "Don't be offended, Potter, or go ahead and be offended if you want; I really don't care."

Harry didn't follow Draco down the hall, but watched as he turned a corner and then shrugged and walked to the great hall.

Once seated, he turned to Hermione and Ron. "Well, it seems Draco is alive and well."

"What," both students asked of Harry simultaneously.

"What did he say?"

"Did he look like he'd been dead?"

Harry shrugged. "He's back, so I suppose you can ask him yourselves if you really want to know."

Hermione stared at Harry. "Don't tell me you're going to regress to your childish rivalry after all you've been through together."

Ron looked at Hermione with a slightly bewildered, slightly offended look. "After all what that Harry and Ferret have been through? And who are you calling childish?"

Ah, well, Draco had never been very fond of cream puffs in the morning; as he turned the corner away from Harry, inertia, or momentum or whatever it was made the five cream puffs Draco had on a tray fly off. However, he didn't spare them a glance as he quickly descended into to the dungeons.

What he did spare a glance at was a pair of large hands that came at him from a dark room. "Mmfpgh," Draco exclaimed as one of the hands clamped over his face. The hands hauled him into the dark room, leaving the entire tray victim to inertia or momentum or whatever it was.

Nobody heard the clang as the tray hit the floor, nor did anybody hear the one yelp before Draco Malfoy was knocked unconscious by a cloaked figure in a dark room.


	9. Without a way to run

**Chapter 9: Sin razon para declinar**

When Draco opened his eyes again, it was because a dull pain in his head had awoken him. He was sitting in a chair, with his head hanging forward. Looking down, all he could see were his feet and a bit of the surrounding area. A large spider was slowly making its way across the floor, and Draco could see each of its eight legs move in a steady rhythm, the joints bending and unbending.

The spider was crawling towards his feet.

Draco hated spiders. He hated almost everything with more than four legs, for sure.

And a thing with eight of them was crawling closer to him with each second.

The spider touched Draco's shoe, and slight panic seized him. He kicked out his foot to rid it of the arachnid. Or rather, he tried to and realized that his feet were temporarily immobilized by rope. He tried to bend down and felt the rope tied around his torso for the first time, and then the rope tying down his wrists.

The knot of slight panic that had grown in his chest at the sight of the spider dissipated, leaving room for the sudden seizure of sheer panic to rise. Draco thrashed for a moment before realizing that it was quite futile to try to break his bonds. 'Breathe,' Draco commanded of himself. 'Panic is a weakness. Think straight.'

In an effort to calm himself and try to think of a plan of action, Draco surveyed his surroundings. He was in a chair, and it was dark. "As if that weren't obvious," he spoke aloud in a frustrated voice. He squinted his eyes as if it would help him peer through the darkness.

A cellar. It seemed he was in a cellar. Panic seized him again when he recalled his experience of 'plane jumping', or whatever Granger had called it; hadn't Zabini been trapped in a cellar? Wasn't there a chance that maybe he had been tied to a chair and forced to go through whatever he'd gone through?

The hair on the back of Draco's neck stood on end and he craned his head around, trying to find the shadows of people in the dark. "If anybody's there"- 'If anybody's there, what?' He wasn't exactly in a position that could be seen as a threat. Draco tried looking around once more, but he was alone; he was alone, at least, in his small radius of visibility.

He sighed and leaned his head back, trying to stretch out the stiff muscles. "If anybody's there…" Draco's voice was no more than a whisper. He closed his eyes. He wished somebody were there, he wished he heard somebody else's breathing to block out the pressing sound of surrounding silence.

Draco felt a tickling sensation on the fingers of his right hand. He was startled, and tried to think of what it may have been. An image of the spider came unwillingly to his mind, making its slow path up his shoe, his trousers, his torso, the joints of its eight legs bending and unbending…

He violently clenched and unclenched his hand, trying desperately to move his fingers fast enough to fling of the horridly disgusting…eight legged…

"I- hate"- His hand was still tickling and he was still flailing it about as wildly as one whose movement is constricted can when a small sliver of light appeared and started growing. When the door was completely open, Draco tried to move his face away from the almost blinding light, while still squinting at the open space to see who'd entered.

"Good evening, young Malfoy," came a frigid greeting. Draco's hand stopped its twitching at the sound of that voice. That voice which belonged to a man who had killed countless numbers of people, and had yet to stop.

Draco froze, and the silhouette framed in the doorway started moving closer. You just got your life back, Draco thought to himself. Don't lose it again quite yet, for this time it will most definitely be for good.

Voldemort walked closer to Draco and the door behind him closed. Draco's mouth opened in what might have been protest if he'd not suddenly lost his voice, but he quickly snapped it shut. Doubtful that the Dark Lord would graciously keep the light coming in for his sake.

"Ah, did you want the door open, young Malfoy? Or perhaps you were just in need of some light after your time in the dark?" There was a chuckle before Voldemort muttered a spell under his breath. A torch flared to life in a corner of what Draco now saw wasn't a cellar at all, but a neglected room. An old bed lay not too far from where Draco was sitting, with a mattress nobody would sit on of their own will. An even older-looking wardrobe was looming over Draco to one side, and Voldemort stood on the other.

The Dark Lord was staring down at Draco appraisingly as he made his way to the boy's front, twirling his wand between his spidery fingers all the while. "I hear that you have become quite the phenomena, boy. It is being said that you were dead," Voldemort languidly pointed his wand at Draco's heart, which decided to stop beating at that moment as if shy from the attention, "but were then brought back to life." Voldemort lifted his wand up to point at Draco's face. "Is this true?"

Draco stared up at the man speechlessly. He hadn't _really _been dead…

"You will find, young Malfoy, that I am not slow to anger." Draco quickly nodded. "Did Dumbledore… aid you in your journey back to life," he asked, spitting the name out with venom. Draco shook his head, no. "Hm. Malfoy, I am about to bring you to face with a proposition. But first, you have by now heard that your father is- _most_ unfortunately- dead?" Draco could see the smirk on the man's face. He nodded his head, yes.

Voldemort stepped closer to the bonded boy. "And do you know why he is now dead, and why your mother will be as well if she is not already, Malfoy?" Draco did know the answer to this, but he wasn't sure if he was supposed to. He shook his head, no. "Ah, well, it seems that your mother and father were not as loyal to their ideals as they posed themselves to be." Draco stared. "Your mother and father were sentenced to death on charges of treason, Malfoy. It is up to you to restore the family name."

"My proposition to you, boy, is that you follow the path your father strayed from. Your choice," he pointed his wand at Draco's heart once again, "is to join me and betray what might have been your parents' wish, or to join them in death. It has been said that father and son are much alike, but…I've reason to believe that's not always true."

Draco stared up at the man blankly, not knowing what to say. Join him or die. His feeling of self-preservation was bubbling up, as was his feeling of loyalty to his parents. Join him or die.

"So what is your choice, Malfoy? And do speak for once; you are not mute." Draco opened his mouth and snapped it shut again. "If you do not give me an answer then I will expect the worst of you, boy," Voldemort threatened, pressing the tip of his wand into Draco's chest.

'I just gained my life again,' Draco thought. Join him or die. "I- I"- the wand tip jabbed harder into his chest. "I will join you," he whispered, barely audible above the pounding of his heart and the sound of his heavy breathing. He let his head hang forward again, like it had been when he woke up.

Voldemort chuckled again, and pointed his wand at the ropes binding Draco's left arm. Two, cloaked Death Eaters came in to the room as if summoned, and stood on either side of their master. Draco kept his head down and his face turned away from what he knew was about to happen to his left forearm. His body tensed up, and when he felt the searing pain he closed his eyes and felt tears leak out, but he refused to let out a cry.


	10. Ay, zee end of a performance

**A/N: **Well. Did you know Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince just came out? Have you read it yet? Because it's splendid, and now, your faithful author looks down at her own work using (exploiting/abusing?) the Harry Potter characters (which aren't hers- cough) and sees how empty her work seems in comparison. So, here's a (most likely) temporary ending until she can think of what to do with her life. Sigh. I wish I hadn't finished the book quite so fast. /

Did you notice my change from third to first character? Ah, well, on with the chapter. And please laugh, and don't hate if you actually really really liked this story. It's sort of a joke. Like my LIFE. /flails/

**Chapter Ten: An awakening in many ways, or The End of the Story. **

Draco looked down at the skull etched in to his skin. He wasn't even sure how they did it. However, did it matter? There was a skull on his forearm. A skull with a snake. He didn't even really like snakes. He didn't like anything they stood for. He didn't like Slytherin.

Okay. Now he was just being sullen, and he knew it.

Draco sighed. Life is hard. "I don't really feel up to living," the boy stated matter-of-factly to the roof. He sighed again. He glanced around the room, skipping from one piece of furniture to another. He was alone.

So he spoke to his surroundings.

"I suppose he'll make me a spy at Hogwarts? Killing, mischief. Whatever," Draco whispered. He couldn't imagine himself saying the Killing Curse to anybody; he couldn't imagine what it would feel like to spit out the words and have the malevolent energy gush out of him and at another person.

Would it tickle?

"_Avada Kedavra_," Draco whispered to the room. It sent chills up his spine.

_Chills of excitement, perhaps,_ a voice asked in the back of his head. A voice that was horridly familiar. And then he remembered what his father had once said, about the Dark Lord being a mind reader.

_Sleep, Malfoy,_ the voice commanded.

And he did.

In his dream, Draco was walking through a corridor filled with all sorts of colorful moving photos, or perhaps paintings or windows, he wasn't quite sure nor did he care. He entered in to a large room, perhaps an entrance hall, and could hear his footsteps echoing.

Draco rotated in the center of the room, peering at every wall as if looking for something. He made almost a complete turn before he stopped, and when he did stop he disregarded one of the first rules of the stage.

He broke character and peered at the audience through the fourth wall. "Ergh, how long have you lot been there?" The boy seemed peeved at the idea of an audience watching his every step. "Well, wouldn't you? And how- who is- _there's a narrator?_"

Draco turned around once more, looking for the source of commentary. "Of course I'm- _why_ are you repeating everything I do," he demanded angrily. "I'm not angry, you dolt, I'm"- panicking? "I- _no_- I'm- fine, I'm angry." He thought for a moment. "_Will you stop_," he asked forcefully. "_Yes_ I'm angry. I've just been forced in to the ranks of an army I don't think I ever really wanted to join. I wish"-

_I wish I were somebody else,_ he wanted to say. But he didn't, because he didn't want-

"Well I suppose I might as well have said it," he huffed, scowling, "if you're going to be reading my thoughts." He stared at the audience through the invisible, fourth wall, and tried to make eye contact with the faceless lot. Which was rather hard. "You can say that twice," he muttered. He shook his head, as if to regain focus, staring in to the eyes of a person sitting in the front, looking like the director of this play. "Yes, exactly," he said, nodding. "Focus. Make me somebody else. Give me a different life. And if I wake up the same boy with the same life so be it, I'll just have a little less faith in the gods."

He wasn't sure if he was joking.

"I suppose nobody is," he replied softly. He could have sworn he heard somebody in the audience muttering softly, but he didn't care because at that moment he was waking up.

And of course he woke up in a different area than where he'd fallen asleep, but he could barely even remember where that had been. And he might have woken up a different person. He might have been another boy in another life, in a different part of the world where Voldemort had yet to reach with his power-hungry hands. Like in the South American jungle.

Or maybe he was the same boy, but with a different life than he'd thought he had. Maybe he hadn't even been slightly dead for some six or seven chapters- err, weeks- with only Harry Potter as company.

Either way, he got out of bed, and he lived without narration for the rest of his life. Or at least until his rightful author released her next book. Or another temporary author was somewhat bored.

Whichever came first.

_(Exeunt DRACO MALFOY)_

And…the End. Return for curtain call, and then go back to your rightful story, folks.


End file.
